The Stray
by ruth baulding
Summary: Even in a galaxy far, far away, every boy needs a dog. Anakin brings home a pathetic life form, and Obi Wan is far from amused. But which of them is the worst rascal?


**The Stray**

* * *

><p>Anakin Skywalker used the main entrance to sneak back in. It was a counter-intuitive thing to do, he was aware; anyone would think that the grand entrance hall, with its massive columns and soaring cathedral ceiling, the impossibly high windows pouring shafts of cool light down from above, the echoing marble floors and magnificent statues, would be the last place one would go to be unnoticed.<p>

But nobody who lived here used it. For one thing, it was all the way down at the pedestrian arcade level – only visitors or grand ceremonial occasions ever merited its use. The residents all flitted in and out of the upper landing pads and docking bays; the staff had their own entrances; and if those options weren't to your liking, there were other ways to come and go: the gardens, the shipping docks, the kitchens, the ventilation system, the water recycling system…in short, anything and everything but the front door.

For another thing, it offered access to a set of turbo lifts which bypassed the busier portions of the mezzanine concourse, which harbored dining halls, classrooms, sparring salons, and other places sure to be filled with students and masters at this time of evening.

He clutched his burden closer to his chest and tried to smother its intermittent yelps and whimpers with a fold of his cloak. "You have to be quiet," he pleaded with the beast. "You're gonna get us both in trouble."

Truth be told, it was he who would be getting the both of them in trouble, unless he could successfully navigate his way back to the quarters he shared with Obi Wan, avoid being detected before he arrived, and then somehow manage to convince his incredibly stubborn and strict teacher that this was a cause worth fighting for. Important enough to be worth breaking the rules. The little akk pup nuzzled its wet nose against his skin, as though encouraging him to persevere in the ambitious and risky quest. His heart melted all over again, just as it had when he had first discovered the shivering creature abandoned and starving atop one of the underlevels' junkpiles.

They made it to the lift, because the entrance hall was empty. They made it to the residence halls because the lift was empty, too. But once inside the residence wing proper, thing swiftly became more difficult. He had to stop and pretend to be absorbed in a private comm. or his datapad more than once as somebody hurried by. He actually pelted down the corridor – in violation of the rules- to reach a corner before an opening door issued a newcomer into the hall ahead of him. He had to bite his lip to stop from yelping himslef when the ingrateful pup nipped the soft flesh on the inside of his arm. And finally he had to fumble at the palm control for the door, trying to restrain the squirming animal with one hand while he brushed his fingers against the smooth panel with his other. If only he had better control of the Force! He had seen Obi Wan wave the door open with a flick of the fingers, overriding the magnetic lock which kept the panel sealed.

He tumbled across the threshold with a sigh of relief, let the door hiss shut behind him and dropped his wriggling bundle to the floor, where it joyfully scrambled free of his cloak and made a riotous inspection of the small apartment, rushing in a mad race from one room to the next, sticking its nose into the few pieces of furniture, snuffling at the floorboards, scrabbling against the clear double doors of the small balcony.

Anakin was the only Padawan in his level to enjoy the privilege of a balcony. This was because he was housed with Obi Wan, rather than in the initiate quarters, since he had caused far too much trouble at that former location. Obi Wan had the balcony for the sole reason that he had inherited this set of rooms from Qui Gon Jinn – had in fact lived here with the deceased Jedi Master for many years, when he was a senior Padawan, before he met Anakin. And Qui Gon himself had managed to secure these highly desirable rooms, with their balcony, because he had bribed the director of housing, who had been a non-Jedi staff member at the time.

Anakin didn't like to think of his idol doing something like _bribing_ someone, but when he had challenged Obi Wan about it, the Jedi knight had said that the bribe was more like a personal favor, and that he was only repeating what Qui Gon had told him a long time ago. When pressed further, he admitted that he did have his own theory about the matter. And when pressed even further, he had replied in a perfectly even tone that he thought the Council actually hoped that the rogue Jedi would eventually jump or fall off his precious balcony, and had approved the housing decision on this thin thread of hope. Anakin thought, though he wasn't sure, that this was nothing more than Obi Wan's black humor. When pressed even further, Obi Wan reluctantly admitted that the only person ever to come close to falling off the balcony had been himself. When pressed yet further, he refused to give any more information and sent the vexing inquisitor away.

Anakin watched his new pet complete a few more exploratory rounds before waddling into his own small room and relieving itself in the very center of the floor, leaving a dark stain upon the small carpet in its center.

"Poodoo!" the young boy exclaimed, immediately regretting his choice of words. What if the pup decided to obey his injunction, adding an odiferous insult to the injury already wrought upon the unsuspecting carpet? He rummaged through the droids and bits of droids which covered his desk and bed, and found a mostly-finished cleaning bot, which he set into motion around the floor. The akk pup growled and backed away from the whirring machine suspiciously, the soft hackles around its neck and down its spine standing up in a comical display.

"Here boy," he crooned, holding out a bit of leftover dinner in one hand. There wasn't much in the conservator in the tiny kitchen – just some scraps he had stored there himself a few days ago – but the starving pup made short work of them and whined for more. That was a problem; though the Temple had several refectories and dining halls open at all hours, there was no possibility of smuggling the pup into one of them. And it would be difficult to justify carrying extra food up to their quarters…unless…

While the pup noisily lapped water from a shallow cup normally used for tea, Anakin sorted through the things stored in the cupboards. Again, there was almost nothing to be found, but he settled upon a container of soap, of the kind used to clean dishes. It was a utilitarian supply, seldom used but harmless enough. His memory wandered back to the harsh days on Tatooine, on the conversations he shared with other children, some of them slaves as well. There were many ways of shirking work, including methods of inducing a temporary but very credible illness. A sly grin spread over his face, and he ruffled the akk pup's adorable fur as it scampered about his feet, licking his boots with its tiny sandpaper tongue.

* * *

><p>He was crouched in the refresher, vomiting up the contents of his stomach and guts, and what felt like most his internal organs, too, when Obi Wan finally returned.<p>

"Only twenty minutes at the Sardhin District scrap-pile today," the young Knight remarked as he passéd by the open refresher door, neither pausing nor glancing inside at the pathetic spectacle playing out for his benefit.

It occurred to Anakin suddenly that Obi Wan did not seem at all worried about his unexplained and prolonged absence today – by now, according to the logic of past precedent, he should be both furious and distraught at the disappearance of his eleven year old Padawan. But before he could puzzle over this change of attitude any further, Anakin was seized by another bout of violent heaves.

Obi Wan appeared behind the unfortunate boy, silently handing him a cup of water. "Drink. It will dilute the soap."

Anakin turned red-rimmed eyes up to his teacher, mouth hanging open in guilty astonishment. "How …how did you…?

Obi Wan quirked one eyebrow. "Because I know everything," he said. "And let me assure you, my very young Padawan, that if you think this display will evoke such maternal compassion in my heart that I shall overlook your gross breach of conduct today, you are sadly mistaken."

Anakin downed the water miserably and then returned to his former activity, clutching at the rim of the basin as his body rebelled again and again at the abuse he had done to his insides.

Thirty minutes and several glasses of water later, the worst of the convulsions had ceased.. Anakin lay curled on his side on the refresher's floor, clutching his mutinous belly and staring dully at Obi Wan's boots. He was too tired to roll over or look up any further. "I'm sorry, I'm sorry," he groaned.

"Yes, I can see that," was the acerbic response. Anakin moaned again.

"I'm going down to the salle," the boots said. "You'd better drag yourself into bed when you think you can manage it."

Anakin winced. Obi Wan wasn't even going to help him off the floor. Obi Wan was downright _cold-hearted_ when he wanted to be. And this apparently was one of those times. Prob'ly Anakin deserved it…he had gone sneaking off without permission , yet again. Which reminded him –

"Hey!" he called after the retreating boots. They paused halfway out the 'fresher door. "How did you know where I was and for how long?"

"What do you think?"

"Did you put a tracking signal on my comlink?" Anakin guessed. His stomach really hurt. He might have overdone it a little. "Or in toolkit or something?"

"Hm," Obi Wan replied, sounding a lot like Master Yoda. The boots started padding away again. "I'll have someone bring you a tray of food later." And then they were gone. A door's soft swish told the suffering boy that his mentor had left the apartment entirely. But that was okay, because at least one thing had gone right with his plan. He would be able to feed his new responsibility.

* * *

><p>He was just snapping back the inner casing of his comlink when the door chimed. Hastily tugging the blanket up over the dozing form of the akk pup curled against his legs, Anakin shouted. "Come in!" Then he realized that the visitor would have to be let in – the door might be locked – and would likely require help with what he hoped would be a very heavy tray of food. His innards rebelled at the thought of food, but the akk pup had whined itself to sleep, hard ribs sticking out under its matted fur. He cautiously began to wriggle himself free of the pup and the mess of circuitry strewn over the covers, but his motion was arrested by the appearance of a complete stranger in the doorway.<p>

"Don't bother," this person said. "I let myself in."

Anakin gaped. The stranger wasn't exactly a stranger. That is, Anakin had met him – briefly – a few times, for no more than five minutes at a stretch, in between missions, before or after a sparring session in the dojo. The youngish Jedi Knight lounging in the doorframe of his bedroom was Garen Muln – one of Obi Wan's oldest friends. He was wearing very dark brown tunics, and had dispensed with the traditional tabards entirely. The handle of a small knife protruded –discreetly- from the top of one scuffed boot. Anakin liked his rakish appearance, his departure from the normal uniform. He looked more like an assassin than a Jedi. It was wizard. "Uh…hello," he stuttered, remembering his manners.

But the young Jedi did not seem offended by his lack of eloquence. Instead, he flashed a wide smile and crossed the space between the door and the bed in one fluid motion, setting the tray down on his knees. "Dinner is served. I heard you lost your first one, plus maybe a little besides. That's one good reason I don't have a Padawan yet – although you seem harmless enough on the whole." He peered into his face with a cool and earnest expression, as though sizing Anakin up.

"Um, thank you, Master Muln."

"Your master said he's going to tan your hide for faking illness," Garen Muln supplied conversationally.

Anakin blanched. "He didn't really say that!"

The Knight grinned again. "Nah. He said _Garen, my friend, spare me from a fall to the Dark side – take this food up to my malingering Padawan."_

Now the boy was sure he was joking. "He didn't say that either!"

Garen Muln chuckled. "You are strong in the Force, little one. I can't fool you. Very well: he said absolutely nothing, which as you should know by now, means-"

"He's madder than a bantha's backside," Anakin supplied merrily, drawing on a common Tatooinian idiom.

The other Jedi kept a straight face. "That's about right," he agreed. His keen grey gaze travelled about the room's confines. Droid bits and electronic and cybernetic tools cluttered every surface and filled every corner. His eyebrows rose at the sight of the disemboweled comlink on the bedcovers. "Repairs?" he enquired. "Is that your idea of convalescing?"

For some reason, Anakin liked him.. He was different from Obi Wan, that was for sure. "I'm not so good at holding still and resting, really," he admitted. Master Muln's answering snort was difficult to interpret so he continued. "Actually I was checking my comlink for tracking devices….but I can't find any."

Garen Muln broke into a rich, musical laugh at these words. "Oh, so you think your master was keeping tabs on you with a tracker?" He wagged a finger. "Let me tell you right now, he is _way_ sneakier than that. He is an absolute wily son of an _akk_, your master."

Anakin almost started out of his skin at the word "akk." Garen Muln smiled again, his grey eyes flashing, and then he shot out a hand and whipped the blanket down and away, revealing the sleeping form of the pup, still curled miserably against Anakin's thigh. The tiny creature stirred and lifted its head, then sniffed. The scent of hot food had it springing up with a yelp and plunging its muzzle greedily into the contents of the tray, spattering stew and bits of bread over the bedclothes and Anakin's sleep clothes.

"He's cute," Garen Muln decided. "Nasty manners, though. Kind of like Obi Wan."

Anakin gaped, but panic quickly replaced his astonishment."Please don't tell my master!" he blurted out, to his immediate regret.

"Hm. Well, _you're_ not allowed to keep secrets, Padawan. But that doesn't apply to me, does it? And he didn't actually ask about your little friend. He only asked me to keep an eye on you – so….I don't know what you're talking about."

He stood, taking one last assessing look around the room, and shrugged.

"You were _following _me?" Anakin called out after the Knight's retreating form, but received no answer. The akk pup finished its meal and began licking its paws, nose, and new owner, leaving an even stickier mess in its wake. Then it danced in an urgent circle, plopped down onto the floor once again, and repeated its performance from earlier in the day. Only this time it managed to leave a more solid deposit.

"Poodoo!" Anakin hollered, sending the pup skittering for cover under the desk. Wrinkling his nose, the young Jedi found a bit of discarded flimsi among his scraps, and carefully scooped the offending object up before hurrying to deposit it in the refresher, where the sanitizer reduced it to inoffensive ash. The lingering odor of the wet stain on his carpet was another problem. But where there was a will there was a way. He pushed the bed and the desk off the corners of the floor covering, rolled the heavy material into a long tube, and proceeded out to the balcony. Perhaps if he hung the rug over the railing, the damp spot would dry nicely and leave no trace of its existence. It was a good idea. And it wasn't his fault if the heavy object proved too unwieldy for him and slipped over the balcony's far edge, plummeting countless stories downward to land with a padded _thwap!_ far below. He leaned over the rail to see where it might have ended its fall, but the sun had set, and he couldn't see.

The pup nipped at his heels, and he quickly shooed it back inside before it followed the rug over the edge. "Let's just go to bed," he advised the mischievous creature.

* * *

><p>Coruscant's luminous night-time finery was at its most opulent in the shopping and entertainment districts surrounding the legislative sector; merchants from a thousand systems competed to attract the attention and custom of the galaxy's most privileged castes, and decked their places of business in the most gaudy holo-boards and pulsing light displays ever seen. Ambassador Rioo, newly elected representative from the admittedly backworld planet Sulusti, found the riotous panoply of color and motion a bit unsettling.<p>

"Can we not take a more discrete route?" he complained, nervously twisting his hands in his lap as the airtaxi sent to meet him at his landing pad careened through the vibrating maze of sound and light en route to the exclusive guest accommodations.

"Sorry, sir, this is the most direct route and air traffic control gets feisty if I change the flight plan," the pilot murmured. He cast an inquisitive glance at the Jedi seated beside the agitated senator.

Obi Wan Kenobi made a small gesture with one hand – a signal to carry on, pay no heed.

"I'm quite sure we're being followed," the Ambassador whispered, leaning close to his Jedi escort. "That speeder back there – it's tailing us. I'm certain it's a bounty hunter."

Obi Wan took a calming breath. "I assure you, there is nobody following us."

Rioo withdrew a silken handerkercheif from a pocket in his long tunic and dabbed at his forehead. "I cannot help but think of the disastrous events on Sulusti ten years ago," he muttered. "There was very little warning of danger at that time, either."

The Jedi shifted impatiently, sparing a glance at the speed gauge in the pilot's console. It showed a discouragingly low number. "Ambassador, as I remember it, the disaster amounted to little more than a disrupted shipment of vegetables."

"Carnage," Rioo corrected him. "And the Jedi Order never did pay full damages, you know. Not that I'm complaining, Master Kenobi. But I'm sure you will admit that the it was a close call."

Obi Wan carefully schooled his expression into blank indifference. He nodded. "Indeed. As I recall, your wife came close to losing her headdress and wig."

The Sulustian shuddered. "She has never really been the same since," he mourned. "Are you sure that speeder back there- do you see it – right there- I'm quite sure it's following us."

"Once again, I assure you that we are in no immediate danger. I would be aware of a hostile presence following us."

Rioo smoothed the front of his ceremonial stole. "You will of course stay at my residence tonight as a security measure," he said, pleadingly.

"I am here to serve, Ambassador."

There were many sacrifices a Jedi might be called upon to make in the line of duty. That was right and proper. Obi Wan simply wished that it might have been some _other_ Jedi who had been called upon to make these particular ones. Sighing inwardly, he prepared to spend a very long and tedious night thwarting the imaginary assassination attempts of countless phantasmal villains.

Rioo wiped his face again with shaking hand. "It would be a great comfort to me."

* * *

><p>The Force was with him. Or at least that's what Anakin concluded, waking blearily at his usual time – directly before dawn – and registering that he was alone in the suite. His teacher's now familiar presence was absent; and there was no echo of his recent departure. He must have been gone all night. Stretching, and shoving the warm, musky smelling akk pup off his chest, the young boy sat up and ran fingers through his short, spiked hair, scratching vigorously at his scalp. Truth be told, he was a little gritty after a night spent sharing his sleep-mattress with the small animal. And the once-white bedclothes looked a little worse for wear, too. Smelt not so good, either. It occurred to him that both he and the akk were in dire need of a bath.<p>

The shower in the small refresher had sonics and water. He tried the sonics first – he still had trouble convincing himself that using water for something as trivial as washing the body was not a catastrophic waste. But no sooner had he thumbed the control, sending the high-power sonic waves thrumming through the enclosed shower space like an invisible, ultra-vigorous massage, than the akk began to howl and frantically claw at the walls, the latched door, the smooth floor, and Anakin's legs and stomach. "OW!" he hollered as the pup's blunt but hard claws scraped red welts across his belly and thighs.

He shoved the panicking animal down and turned off the sonics. Okay, water, then. A scalding spray hit his back and made him holler again. "Sith-spit!" he screamed, as clouds of vapor rose around him. Master Obi Wan liked his shower so damned hot it was a wonder he didn't boil himself to death. Fumbling for the temperature control, Anakin managed to cool the water to a manageable temperature and find some washing liquid to do his business. The akk pup cowered at his feet, trying to use Anakin's slight form as shelter from the downpour. It was a futile effort, and soon the cringing animal was a mass of wet, matted fur and dripping ears.

That's when Anakin discovered how repulsive a wet akk can smell. "Bleeeech!" he coughed, as he leaned down to lather some soap into the poor thing's ragged coat of fur. The water running down the drain turned a filthy black, and the akk's struggles to escape his ministrations resulted in more scrapes and bruises from its large paws. It even nipped his hand away once or twice.

It took longer than normal to dry the poor creature off, too, and then another long ten minutes to wipe down the refresher's walls and floors. Anakin ended up soiling every towel in the cupboard, so he stuffed the whole lot of them down the laundry chute and called it quits. The akk wasn't exactly squeaky clean, but at least it wasn't covered in bits of garbage from the heap where he's found it. And it smelled different – like a combination of wet akk and sharp mentah-herb washing liquid. The air recycler was going to be hard at work today.

There was a message waiting for him on his comlink. "Ooops," he breathed, Shoulda checked that first.

"Anakin," Master Obi Wan's voice said on the message recording. "Meet me for morning meal in the second level dining hall. I'm called away on a mission here in the Senatorial district, but I wish to give you instructions for your studies today. Don't be late," he warned, and then the message ended. According to the chrono, Anakin had exactly seven and a half minutes to get to breakfast.

"Here," he muttered, placing a generous bowl of water on the floor in the kitchen. "Uh..be good while I'm gone." The akk sat and looked up at him with an endearing expression, and even wagged its tail slightly, so Anakin interpreted this as a promise of good conduct. He looked over his shoulder once or twice, and then left in a hurry for his appointment.

* * *

><p>"So…where were you last night?" Anakin inquired casually, watching his mentor drain a large cup of fragrant caff. "Chasing a criminal all over the city?"<p>

It was the wrong thing to say. "Anakin. The life of a Jedi is devoted primarily to negotiation and peace-keeping, not reckless high speed adventure."

It was hard not to roll his eyes. "Just asking," the boy muttered. "You never came back to the Temple."

"I ended up playing personal security guard to a highly paranoid dignitary from a minor backworld – he labors under the delusion that every professional bounty hunter on Coruscant is out specifically for his blood. However, since he appears to be the key signatory in some bill currently before the Senate's consideration, the Chancellor requested a special favor from the Council, and we are …ah…indulging the man's fantasy."

"So how come you got that bum assignment?"

"Anakin!"

"Sorry…..but really. Why you?"

"Because I happen to have made his acquaintance previously. Some years ago, with Master Qui Gon. It was hoped a familiar face would be calming. I need to return to his offices in a few minutes. He'll have a conniption if he arrives at the Senate building without a proper escort to meet him."

Anakin ate heartily – but not too heartily. He made sure to leave a nice leftover helping of everything on his plate. "Were you going to give me instructions for today, master?"

"Yes, I was. Since you seem unable to stay within bounds, I'm sending you on Master Vanqui's field trip to the manufacturing sector. You'll be accompanying students a few years older than yourself, so try not to do anything to embarrass me."

Anakin hesitated, taking a moment to rub at the welts on his belly and legs, and to give his head a scratch. "Are you going to have Master Muln follow me again?" he asked petulantly.

"Oh, so he told you about that? Well, if he does, you'll never know. Garen could be watching you right now, and you'd have no idea."

The blonde-headed boy craned his head round the room, looking for any sign of the young Knight he had chatted with yesterday evening. But there was no sign of the rakish young man in dark tunics."I like him," Anakin said. "Is it true you grew up together?"

"One of us grew up, anyway. And stop scratching."

"Sorry." Anakin pushed the annoying itch at the nape of his neck out of his mind and deliberately stilled his hands. "Don't worry, master. I'll make you proud today. I can't wait to see the manufacturing district. Really. I bet they have wizard stuff – cranes and welding droids and shipyards and-"

"And junk heaps which you are not to so much as touch."

"Yes, master. I promise. Shall I just go back to our quarters and get my things…?"

But Master Obi Wan shook his head. "There's no time," he said, deftly picking up Anakin's half finished plate, with the leftovers intended for the pup, and shoving it into the arms of a passing server droid. "You need to meet them at the base of the west tower. Off you go."

There was no way out of that order – and no way to get back to check on the akk. Anakin swallowed, and hoped that the visitor would keep its furry word and behave in his absence. "Yes, master," he answered, and trotted away to his next assignment. After all, how much could go wrong in one day?

* * *

><p>Obi Wan stood guard – quite unnecessarily – outside the Senatorial office while Rioo affixed his seal of office to the all-important bill. The proceedings occupied the better part of the morning; and he was not pleased to learn that a ceremonial banquet had been scheduled for the noon-hour.<p>

Ambassador Rioo peeped his balding head around the doorframe after the other dignitaries has departed. "Is the coast clear?" he inquired, eyes darting back and forth along the curving corridor.

"All the bounty hunters have been dispatched," Obi Wan informed him.

Rioo's face paled, and the Jedi immediately regretted his indulgence in dark humor. "Oh dear," the Sulustian muttered. "Oh dear. Perhaps I should not attend the banquet. I mean…won't security be difficult in such a crowded venue? Perhaps it would be best if I were to leave the building by a surreptitious means…a back exit? Can that be arranged?"

Obi Wan thought fast. "Ambassador: I can tell you from many years of experience that such a scheme is precisely what any self-respecting assassin would expect. You must outwit your…ah…adversaries by doing the _unexpected._ I recommend attending the banquet."

Rioo mulled this over for a long while. "Ah,yes, I see. I see the logic. But it does seem risky. Are you sure?"

"Quite." The Jedi put a steadying hand under the man's elbow and steered him gently but inexorably toward the lower level.

After the luncheon there was a press conference, and then a series of private meetings in the legislative building; and then a holo-conference with the Sulusti premier. By the time Rioo had completed his day's work, the sun had set outside and the Senator's fraying nerves were in a state of piteous disarray.

"This is when they'll attempt to bomb my vehicle," he told the Jedi. "We must find another means of transport."

Obi Wan suppressed the urge to massage his temples. "There is no public transit between this building and your residence, Ambassador. The air limo which brought you here is reliable and safe."

"No, no, no, no," Rioo insisted, twisting his stole in consternation. "I'll take the pedestrian quick-tubes. That's the unexpected, isn't it? That's right. Do the unexpected. And perhaps we'll throw them off our tracks with a quick stop at some local tavern. That'll do the trick – though I must ask you never to mention it to my wife. She wouldn't understand the subtleties of the situation, I'm afraid – not that I'm disparaging her intellect, you understand, She is a most clever woman. She breeds rare lap dogs, you know. It's a fine art, very tricky and subtle business."

Obi Wan paled at the prospect of several more hours spent navigating the labyrinth of Coruscant's pedestrian transit system and the horrors of a visit to one of the district's "local taverns.". He decided that discretion is the better part of valor. "Ambassador," he said, calling upon the Force's persuasive power. "You should take the air taxi home – alone. And go straight to bed."

"I'll take the air taxi straight back to the residence tower and get to bed," Rioo declared.

"It's the last thing any bounty hunter will expect."

"It's the last thing they would suspect," the Sulustian explained. "It's really quite clever."

"If you insist, Ambassador," Obi Wan respectfully demurred. After all, he was here to serve.

* * *

><p>How much could go wrong in one day? It was important to keep a narrower, present-minded focus when dealing with a student like Anakin Skywalker. The temptation to consider his numerous misdeeds and truancies from the long view, as a totality, was something to be overcome. Anakin was overwhelming in large doses, and training a Padawan learner was the work of at least a decade. Far, far better to limit one's attention to the present day, even the present moment. And in one day, even the Chosen One could not wreak more havoc than his mentor could handle. Even yesterday's transgression had to be forgotten for the moment; let today be its own judge and jury.<p>

Obi Wan Kenobi wearily returned to his quarters after completing his tedious assignment with the Sulstutian ambassador and making a cursory report on its positive (inevitable, foregone) conclusion. Master Vanqui's excursion had not yet returned, which meant that he had a golden opportunity to steal a few hours' rest without the enthusiastic chatter of his Padawan to distract him. The door slid open at his mental touch, and he strode over the familiar threshold …

…to be greeted by a scene of unparalleled disorder. For one moment he thought that perhaps the ruthless bounty hunters which haunted the unfortunate ambassador's lurid imaginings had in fact materialized and decided to ransack his quarters in the Temple. And then his mind flashed back to a particularly memorable visit he had once made to a Hutt's slovenly dwelling place. But neither of these vivid images included the mangy runt of an akk pup sitting forlornly in the center of the living space, staring up at him with frightened white-rimmed eyes.

Ignoring the chewed and mangled meditation cushions, the overturned table and holo-projector, the ragged scratch marks on the walls, the stains on floor and carpeting, the pervasive stench and muskiness in the air, he extended a hand and reached into the tiny creature's simple mind. It was frightened, bored, confused, hungry, and missing a particular blonde-headed boy who smelled of engine grease. Obi Wan nudged it into a deep sleep, and then cautiously picked his way through the debris to crouch beside the animal.

Matted fur, blotchy skin around the eyes and nose, a dribble of mucus from one eye. Ribs too pronounced. Paws far too large for its body, so it was quite young. Pink tongue lolling over small, sharp teeth, blunt claws, no collar or identifying mark on its body. It stank. Stars' sake, it stank – as did the entire apartment.

"Anakin," he growled, opening the balcony doors and breathing deeply of the fresh air outside.. A cursory inspection of the other rooms revealed equal or greater damage. He released his initial irritation to the Force, called in a cleaning bot, threw all the linens into laundry chute, requested new things from the quartermaster, and dumped the poor akk into Anakin's small room. It twitched and whimpered piteously in its Force-induced sleep as he dropped it unceremoniously onto the floor. And, come to think of it, what in the blazes had the boy done with his carpet?

By the time the service droids had cleaned the rooms, delivered new meditation cushions and linens, and carted away the tattered remains of the old ones, it was past meal time. The akk had awakened and was scratching at the closed door of its prison, yapping loudly in aggravation. With a sigh, he released the pest and watched as it tore in circles around the other rooms, skidding on the smooth floors and coming to a crashing halt against Obi Wan's boots. It looked up at him, panting.

With a sigh, he poured it more water and set the dish down so it might drink. He briefly contemplated throwing it over the balcony railing, but found his habitual twisted humor a little too dark even for his own liking. With a twinge he realized that the thing had touched a nerve – it was such a pathetic life form that it evoked memories of Qui Gon Jinn, and with the memories came a certain softening toward the pathetic life form in question.

If not the Padawan who had obviously smuggled it in from Force-knew-where. When Anakin did at length return form the field trip, the excited bounce in his step and the enthusiastic gleam in his eye were instantly obliterated by the stern visage of his teacher. He quailed beneath the withering look and confessed everything, including the akk's port of origin.

"You found it in an underlevel scrapheap?" Obi Wan repeated, incredulous. "Anakin!"

"Master, it would have died. I had to save it- I couldn't just leave it there to die. I had to," the boy defended himself, a plaintive note creeping into his voice.

The Jedi knight dragged a hand over his face. "Have you any idea how many diseases this mutt may have been exposed to? It could be a carrier of contagion. Or parasites. Or radiation exposure. Think, Anakin."

"I'm sorry," the boy muttered. "I had to save it."

"You know you can't keep it, of course."

"What?" Anakin's head jerked upward. "The Code doesn't forbid pets! There's no mention of pets! What's the problem with one little pet?"

"Possessions are forbidden, Anakin. Outside those of utility."

"It's not a possession," came the counter-argument. "It's a living being. And we're supposed to have compassion for all living things. So what about that? Should we just chuck it over the balcony railing because possessions are forbidden?" Anakin's voice rose with his emotion, and he gesticulated sharply with his hands.

"Watch your attitude, young one." Obi Wan took a deep breath. "A pet is a long term attachment. A Jedi cannot afford such things, even in small matters. It is a point of discipline."

"A Padawan is a long term attachment, isn't he?"

"Are you suggesting I throw _you_ over the balcony?"

They glared at each other for a long moment, but Anakin looked down first. Someday, maybe, he would be able to look his master in the eye with defiance and not feel that awful silent storm in the Force roiling in awesome potential around the older Jedi. Or maybe he would feel equal to meet that barely-contained possibility with his own. But for now…"I'll get rid of it," he sniffed.

"Not so fast," Obi Wan warned. "First we need to have a healer up here to scan it for possible infection or toxic exposure. Then we'll make a rational decision about its future. Not the balcony railing," he promised, in reply to the stricken look on his apprentice's face. His eyes twinkled. "At least, not for the akk pup."

* * *

><p>The healer who showed up to perform the necessary task was not amused. On the other hand, she did not seem as though she would be amused by anything, even by a troupe of comedic clowns juggling stuffed garks or one of those puppet shows where the hilarious characters did nothing but smack each other with progressively larger sticks. Anakin had seen a street performer in Mos Eisely once, when he was very small, and he had never forgotten the squeals of shrill laughter the non-slave children made. But this small, fierce-eyed Mon Calamari woman would have silenced them all with one sweeping glare of her impossibly huge eyes.<p>

"Really, Obi," she tutted, entering their rooms with a long-suffering expression. "I thought you might have outgrown such nonsense by now."

Anakin opened his mouth with a hot defense of his teacher, but Obi Wan raised one finger at him, and quirked a smile in his direction. Apparently the healer's words were not as hostile as Anakin had supposed. Curiously he reached into the Force to see whether he had misunderstood the situation. It rippled with a strange, playful energy.

"Master Eerin," Obi Wan made the introductions. "My Padawan, Anakin Skywalker."

"Glad to meet you at long last," the Mon Cal woman said. "I've been reassigned to the Temple recently. I suppose we'll get to know each other quite well." She shot another indecipherable look at Obi Wan, who smiled blandly.

"Uh…that would be great," Anakin mumbled, not sure what the proper response might be, and doubly taken aback by his master's inexpicable amusement at their exchange.

The healer set a small kit down upon the low table. "Let's get to business," she said briskly. "I'm here to seean akk pup, I understand. Which of you two gentlemen is my patient today?" she inquired, bright gleaming eyes flitting back and forth between master and Padawan.

The ripple of amusement broadened into a murmur. Anakin felt confused, and covered by darting into his room to retrieve the pup. "Here, master," he said, setting the animal down on the table near Master Eerin "It's..I mean, I didn't realize it would be a problem when I brought it in…it's my fault, ma'am, not Master Obi Wan's."

The healer snorted dubiously. "Nonsense, Anakin. It's always Master Obi Wan's fault. Remember that." She darted a quick, bright look at the person in question, and then turned her attentions to the akk. Scanners and instruments came out of the kit. A data analyzer. Vials. Blood sample kit. Radiation gauge. The array of tools was impressive.

"You're not going to stick him with all that stuff, are you?" Anakin yelped, his heart going out to the poor akk. "He's not going to like it!"

Master Eerin blinked two huge, expressive eyes at Obi Wan again, her long mouth turned down in a comical curve of disapproval. "And what will he do if he doesn't like it?" she asked, still looking at Anakin's master as though this had a private double meaning.

"Uh…he'll uh…you know – he'll _pizzle_ on you," Anakin finished lamely.

Both the other Jedi burst out laughing – not the restrained chuckle one normally heard in the Temple's corridors, but a loud, musical pair of guffaws. Master Eerin had a powerful voice for one so compact in build. Anakin didn't see what was so funny.

Obi Wan recovered first, smoothing a hand over his newly sprouted beard. "Anakin, if it will distress you to watch, perhaps you should go fetch something for our friend to eat?"

Relieved to be out of Master Eerin's confusing presence, Anakin scuttled away to the refectory, and carried out his mission with what he hoped was consummate skill. Pockets stuffed with tidbits for his guest, he returned a half-hour later to see the _strangest_ thing. Master Obi Wan was kneeling on the floor with his arms crossed over his chest in a distinctly grumpy posture. Master Eerin stood behind him, leaning over a bit, as she methodically parted and pulled apart tufts of chestnut hair, pausing every now and then to peer closely at one spot before moving on again.

"No, I'm sorry," the healer announced. "You have certainly not been spared. And you've barely touched the poor thing."

Anakin gulped. Something was wrong with his pup. Something bad, and contagious. Would they make him put it down? That's what happened to sick farm animals on Tatooine. He gulped and blinked away the unbecoming tears. "Is he going to die?" he choked out "What's wrong with the pup? Does it have a disease?"

Master Eerin pointed to the curled-up akk in the corner. "Nothing is wrong with your charity case, Anakin, except a well-established lyssa-mite infestation. He's crawling with the things. And so is your master here."

"Oh." Anakin froze. He was in deep poodoo now. He knew all about lyssa-mites from his slave days. Nasty little buggers – they were almost invisible to the naked eye, fed on human blood, multiplied in the thousands, and loved nothing better than to inhabit a warm, soft head of hair. Killing them was difficult. They were resistant to sonics, and most pesticides. Their nits clung to the scalp, and even shaving one's head did not always destroy them….in short, they were a confounded nuisance. Whenever they made an appearance in the slave quarters, extreme measures had to be taken. "What about me?"

Master Eerin waved Anakin forward and hunted among his short hairs, carding her deft Mon Cal fingers through the Padawan's bushy mop for a few moments. "You, too."

"Oh no!" the boy wailed. "Can't you do something? Can't you use the Force to get rid of them?" Everyone knew that lyssa-mites were indestructible, but the Jedi could do _anything._ He had seen the healers at work. There had to be a way.

"Try not to scratch," Master Eerin advised. She began packing her kit away. "And I'll see you first thing in the morning, in the healer's wing. The solution needs six hours to activate fully." She hefted the small burden and started for the door. "Oh, and Anakin?"

"Yes, Master Eerin?"

"Make sure you bring that scruffy pup with you. And the akk, too."

* * *

><p>It was easy for Bant Eerin to say <em>don't scratch.<em> After all, she didn't even have hair for the lyssa mites to infest.. It was another matter entirely for someone who was suffering the all too immediate reality. Anakin lay stretched taut on his narrow sleep-mat. The new linend were stiff, and smelt too clean. The akk pup slumbered peacefully at his feet, snuffing a little as it dreamed. What did akks dream about, Anakin wondered? Did it dream of him rescuing it from the trash heap? Did it have that dream before he came? Or did only people have dreams of things before they occurred? Or only Jedi?

Thoughts whirled in his mind, and for once he actually allowed his focus to remain on them, willing his mind not to notice the increasing discomfort in his body. He had learned to do that before he ever came to the Jedi Temple. Some days when his stomach hurt from not having enough to eat, he would lie in his slave's cot and focus on other things. On mechanical inventions. On stories his mother had told him. On his dreams – the ones that came to him before events happened. The ones that came true,

But the familiar trick did not work tonight. His head and neck were on fire. At last he surrendered, just a little, and gave the worst spot a light scratch. The pleasure was so intense he kept going. His nails left little trails of pain, but it was a strange pain that melted into a worse itch; and then he was snared. He scratched again, and each pain-pleasure wound he inflicted only produced another throbbing plea for attention. Soon he was raking fingers across his scalp more and more violently, trapped in a terrible cycle of satiety and desire, aware but uncaring that all his effort ultimately only fed the fires.

"It itches!" he yammered, and leapt from his bed to run barefoot into the common area, howling his displeasure and desperation to the world at large.

"Yes, it does," a quiet voice answered him.

Anakin tore his mind off the pain and the itching long enough to notice his surroundings. By the faint light issuing off the city's lights and the streams of traffic outside, he could make out Master Obi Wan settled cross-legged upon one of the meditation cushions. His hands rested lightly on his knees, and his chest rose and fell in a slow, even pattern. But there was a slight rigidity in his posture and a tell-tale disturbance in the Force that gave him away. He wasn't very comfortable.

"You too?" the Padawan inquired mournfully.

"Hm. Don't _scratch_, Anakin. It only makes it worse."

The young boy slumped onto another cushion and tried imitating his teacher's calm control. It was a farce. "Aaaaarg!" he growled. "How can it be worse? How can I possibly stop scratching? You're not! How do you do that? How'd you learn?" He was sure there was some Jedi mystery at work here, and he was determined to avail himself of its benefits.

Obi Wan opened his eyes and offered him a rueful smile. "I learned the hard way," he said.

"What's that?"

"When I was not much older than you, I fell into a patch of poison orkra on a mission to Devaron. The inflammation didn't respond well to conventional treatments, and I had to suffer through it for a few days. It itched like the blazes." He chuckled a little, remembering.

"Did you scratch?"

"I drew blood, as I recall. It was horrible, Anakin. Words fail me."

The blonde boy sat on his hands, the desire to reach up and tear at the skin on his scalp nearly overwhelming. But the story was getting interesting, too. He tried to imagine a much younger Obi Wan thrashing around in the throes of the infamous plant's toxin. "Did Master Qui Gon help you? Did he show you how to stop? What did he say?" Because surely if there were a Jedi wise and powerful enough to know how to deal with this, it would have been Qui Gon Jinn: hero, savior, and sage.

"He told me to stop scratching," Obi Wan said simply, "And when I didn't listen, he held me down."

"What?" Anakin blinked.

"Well, he was much larger than I was at the time. And very strong. He grabbed my wrists and pinned me down in a wrestling hold and wouldn't let go. For a very long time."

"You mean like minutes on end?"

Another chuckle. "No, Anakin, I mean two hours on end.. I fought and begged and squirmed and even tried a mind trick on him, to no avail. I thought he might never let go., And the itch grew worse all the time.. It became so intense that I believe I wept, but still he wouldn't relent. Then, there came a time when I realized that there was no hope of ever scratching again, and I just…accepted…the pain. It was the will of the Force. And after that, I didn't need to scratch. And of course, once he saw that I had finally reached that insight, he let go."

"Are you twisting my tail?" Anakin asked, suddenly suspicious. That didn't sound like a true story. It didn't sound like a real Jedi lesson. It just came down to willpower. And since when did Jedi masters employ a pedagogy that involved such ruthless tactics? "I think you are."

"I'm teaching."

"Are you going to try to sit on me?" Anakin asked in trepidation.

"Only if you scratch again."

* * *

><p>"That takes care of our little friend here, " Master Eerin said. "Of course, this bath only neutralizes the mites on his skin now. Once the new eggs hatch, he'll be just as filthy as before. But I'm sure you will have parted ways with him by then. He simply can't remain here in the Temple."<p>

"I understand," Anakin intoned miserably, lifting the dripping, disheveled akk pup out of the basin. It shook itself dry, sending lather and droplets in every direction. The cleaning bot blurped and whirred, spinning into action once again.

"Leave him in this room," the healer instructed. "The treatment for humans is much more aggressive. Come this way." She led the Padawan back along a wide corridor to another room, where the pungent scent of some chemical nearly knocked the breath from Anakin's lungs.

"What's that?" he rasped, pulling up his tunic to cover his mouth and nose.

Master Obi Wan was sitting on the edge of a cot, looking as wet and bedraggled as the akk pup had a moment ago. His hair now looked the way it did when Anakin first met him – all short spikes and tufts sticking up straight off his head. And he quite definitely appeared to have gotten a good scrubbing. Little rivulets of water dribbled down his neck and over his shoulders. His arms were folded very crossly over his bare chest and he eyed Anakin with a look of severe displeasure.

"Uh…hi," the boy quailed, but he received no reply.

Then Master Eerin was instructing him to remove his own tunics and lean over a basin of some utterly toxic potion. The healer ruthlessly set about shampooing the Padawan's own short hair, her broad fingers digging in and rubbing without mercy. The fumes from the mite poison choked and stung, and Anakin's eyes were running with tears by the time the torture was finished. He meekly accepted a towel and sat down beside his mentor, feet swinging a few inches off the floor.

The healer disappeared and then returned with a vicious looking implement. Anakin tensed, expecting the evil device to be plunged into his flesh, but relaxed when he saw that it was only some kind of extremely fine comb. The Mon Cal Jedi attacked Master Obi Wan first, dragging the tines of the odd comb through every damp tuft of hair, tugging hard and relentlessly upward and dipping the tool into the toxic poison bath repeatedly as she worked. Soon enough she pronounced her work finished and moved on to Anakin. The comb hurt – it was so fine that it pulled terribly, especially around the ears and the neck. Master Eerin took her sweet time, ripping through tangles and occasionally pulling a small clump of hair loose from the boy's scalp. After an eternity, the rough treatment ended, and the healer tossed the comb into a sterilizing unit with a shrug.

"Now," she said, clapping her hands together brusquely. "Potential blood poisoning. Lyssa mites are associated with several potent and unique strains of micro-bacterium." An assistant healer made a brief appearance with two pressure hypos.

"Uh oh," Anakin moaned, despite all his training. "Is that gonna hurt?"

Master Eerin went ahead and jabbed them without any apology. "That's it," she announced. "At least for now. I need you both back here in ten days for the follow-up treatment."

"We have to do all that again?" Anakin complained.

"Sorry." The Mon Cal did not seem remotely sympathetic. "Next time don't bring a mangy stray home with you to the Temple. It's hard enough keeping this place healthy and contagion-free with people traipsing home from all over the known galaxy. Lyssa-mites are the last thing we need."

Her stern lecture was interrupted by the reappearance of the akk pup, which waggled its way into the room and promptly leapt onto Anakin's lap, where it curled up, making a little hollow of comfort against his belly. He reached a hand down and stroked its fur, which was now dry and miraculously stink-free. It was too bad he had to give it away – now that the small creature was clean, he thought it made a lovely companion.

He cast a hopeful look up at Obi Wan, but the look he saw in his teacher's eye confirmed that it was over the balcony railing with Anakin Skywalker, for sure. The young boy gripped the akk even closer to his chest. This just really wasn't fair. He had only tried to save an innocent being from extinction. What was so wrong with that?

After another sullen moment or so, Obi Wan found his voice. "No more pathetic life forms," he growled at the Padawan.

"Yes master," Anakin peeped. A shadow fell across them from the corridor and they turned to see the intimidating figure of Jedi Master Mace Windu filling the doorframe. Instinctively, Anakin clutched the poor akk pup even harder, and it yelped in protest.

Master Windu spared him a single curious glance and then turned his dark eyes to the other Jedi. "Master Kenobi," he drolled in his resonant baritone. "I am sorry to find you indisposed. I hope it's not serious, Healer Eerin?"

The Mon Cal Jedi inclined her head. "Only a case of lyssa-mite infestation," she explained. "Simple enough to remedy."

Mace Windu ran a hand over his smooth and shining scalp. "Lyssa mites?" he said dismissively. "There's an easy enough way to avoid _that."_

Obi Wan closed his eyes briefly. "Snuffing one's Padawan is against the Code."

Bant Eerin covered her mouth with one hand, her enormous liquid eyes wide and shining.

Master Windu chose to ignore the remark, perhaps surmising that it was a result of their surroundings. The healer's ward was well known to have an adverse effect on Kenobi's otherwise steady temperament. "Ambassador Rioo has requested your services again. He leaves Coruscant tomorrow and wished for a Jedi security detail at the landing platform first thing in the morning. He requested you specifically. However, given your condition –"

"No," Obi Wan objected in a slightly husky voice. "I would be _honored_ to fulfill his request. I'll be there, master."

Master Windu hesitated, but the healer gave a nod of approval, so he merely folded his large hands into his sleeves. "Excellent," he said. "May the Force be with you." And then he looked down at Anakin. "That animal is leaving the premises within one planetary cycle," he ordered.

"Yes, master," Anakin replied, not quite meeting the Councilor's stern eyes.

When the tall Jedi had departed, Obi Wan rolled onto his back with a soft groan. "Go lecture yourself on the gravity of your mistake, Padawan," he instructed. "I'm too tired to bother."

"Yes, master." He seemed to be saying that a lot, lately.

* * *

><p>Early the next morning, Anakin found himself trotting along beside his master on the way to the ambassadorial transport. Obi Wan's brown cloak billowed out behind him as he strode across the duracrete landing platform hovering a thousand meters above the city's surface levels. His left hand rested lightly in the rounded pommel of his saber, and his right arm was tucked up against his side, as though he concealed a small burden in the crook of his elbow. His voluminous sleeve fell over his hand, veiling the akk pup nestled comfortably against the Jedi's side.<p>

"I don't get it, master. I thought you didn't really like Ambassador Rioo. And we had to get up early to see this guy off? Why not let somebody else do it?"

Obi Wan just smiled down in that enigmatic way he had. "Two reasons. First, and more importantly, A Jedi does not make choices based on personal preferences."

"Yes, master." There he went again. It was getting to be a habit. Pretty soon he would sound like the Perfect Padawan. Oh well…Anakin figured he could use all the help he could get in that department.

"And second," Obi Wan continued, the smile travelling to his eyes. "I wish to present the esteemed Ambassador with a small gift."

Anakin trotted along a few more paces before comprehension dawned. "My pup!" he exclaimed in horror.

Obi Wan stopped dead before they reached the security coprdoned area. "Yes, Padawan. The pup. Not _your _pup," he added. "Didn't you lecture yourself last night as I ordered?"

What was he supposed to say to that? Anakin scrunched his nose up.

"You cannot keep it. You know this. But contrary to your belief, I am not going to callously throw a living being over the balcony railing. Since you chose to interfere in its destiny, we are after all somewhat responsible for it. I think it would be appropriate to find it a good home."

"The ambassador is a good home?"

"Yes – in the course of our interminable conversations, I learned that his wife is an enthusiastic breeder and connoisseur of exotic lap dogs. She will be thrilled to receive this rare specimen of Coruscanti spaniel."

Anakin's forehead wrinkled. "Uh…I'm pretty sure that's just a stray akk, master."

"Are you an expert dog breeder, Padawan?" the young knight's expression was severe.

"Uh, no."

"Well then." Obi Wan continued walking, waving aside the security officials who hurried forward to challenge his identity. Anakin loved the way they deferently stepped aside at the sight of the lightsaber. He couldn't wait to command that kind of respect himself. Then he would free every slave in the galaxy, right before he rescued every stray pup.

He was so caught up in the pleasant fantasy of future power that he missed the first part of the conversation with Ambassador Rioo.

"You don't say!" the portly man was crooning. "A Coruscanti spaniel? I have never even heard of such a breed!"

Obi Wan was wearing his blandest polite face. "It is indeed rare, Ambassador. And quite reclusive. My Padawan was obliged to go to great lengths to retrieve this specimen."

The ambassador's eyes widened in flattered astonishment. "My wife will be thrilled to add it to her menagerie, master Jedi. I am honored by your generosity."

Obi Wan bowed very solemnly. He was as graceful and polished as ever. "Your safety and comfort are my only concern, Ambassador."

When the rotund dignitary had shuffled away aboard his waiting vessel with the akk tucked under one arm, Anakin chanced an upward glance at his mentor. Obi Wan's face was totally impassive.

"Master," he whispered urgently. "Didn't you hear what Healer Eerin said about the lyssa-mites? The akk isn't totally cured. He's gonna infest everybody he touches with…uh…oh." Something told him that his mentor was perfectly aware of this. Garen Muln's words flashed across his imagination: _He's way sneakier than that. He's an absolute wily son of an akk, your master._ A slow grin started to spread across the boy's features as he looked up at Obi Wan Kenobi with a profound new respect.

"Shall we?" the Jedi knight inquired, holding out a hand in the direction of the exit barriers.

Anakin hurried to catch up, wondering when if ever he would get the hang of this Jedi thing. Sometimes he felt like he didn't really get it at all, that he was just a stray somebody had picked up off the street. But as he jogged along beside his master – who was now chuckling very quietly to himself – he decided that being a stray was not so bad after all.

THE END


End file.
